


Reunion

by SeeWell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fix-It, M/M, Oneshot, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Season 13 Castiel/Dean Winchester Reunion, Season/Series 13, cas is alive, dammit, let them love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 16:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWell/pseuds/SeeWell
Summary: Short fix-itHow Cas and Dean should have reunited after Cas' death and resurrection.





	Reunion

Sam asked him to leave. He said “leave” not “move out” but that didn’t make the situation seem any less permanent. It didn’t change the fact that Sam chose Satan’s spawn over his own family. He said, “I think you should leave” and Dean was packed and on his way fifteen minutes later. That was months ago. 

They kept in contact with a text once or twice a week. They only talked about hunting. It made sense for Dean to be the one to leave. He reminded himself of that at night when the silence was too heavy. The bunker was the best place to protect something supernatural and Sam clearly wanted to protect Jack.

Technically Dean was still hunting, just not with the same urgency as before. One day he and Sam would die. One day no one would stand between doom and creation. One day everything would end. Hunters were really just prolonging the inevitable.

Most of the time Dean would rent a room for a week or two. He started sleeping during the day and hunting at night. Sometimes he didn’t hunt so much as drive aimlessly until he was too tired to keep going, then he’d turn around and head back to the motel in a fog with his eyes half open.

He avoided his reflection as much as he could. He didn’t realize how accustomed he was to seeing Cas over his shoulder. His room stayed dark, the curtains drawn and a towel over the mirror in the bathroom. 

He’d just checked into a new room in Maine. He wasn’t far from where Purgatory spat him back out all those years ago. Cas wasn’t in Purgatory. Cas was dead. There weren’t even any leads in the area. He didn’t have a good reason to be there. 

His phone range at three o’clock in the morning. He didn’t recognize the number and he almost didn’t answer it. He sighed and put the call on speaker. “You’ve reached Dean,” he said. “What’s your nightmare?”

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean blinked at the phone. 

“Dean? Are you there?” The deep rumbling voice on the other end of the line was too familiar. “This is Castiel, angel of the Lord. I’m not sure how long I’ve been gone. I suppose my return might come as a surprise.” After another extended silence, the voice spoke again. “Can you hear me?” 

He held the phone with an unsteady hand. He took it off speaker. This call, if it was real, was too sacred to share with the emptiness of the room. “Cas?” he breathed. 

“Yes,” he answered. “Um, hello. Is this a bad time?” 

Dean felt his heart beating in his throat. “You’re alive.”

“Yes,” said Cas. “My grace has been restored. I could meet you in person if I knew where you were.”

“Whitetail Inn, Lincoln, Maine,” said Dean. “Unit 12.” 

“Thank you,” said Cas. “I’ll be there momentarily.” 

The call ended and Dean didn’t even have time to set his phone down or process what had happened when Cas suddenly appeared in front of him. Dean stared. His brain was operating at quarter-speed and his body was completely frozen. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said again. He frowned as his eyes scanned the hunter. “I suppose you’d like an explanation.” 

Dean didn’t know what he wanted and, even if he did, he couldn’t articulate it. 

“I believe Kelly Kline’s child summoned me,” said Cas. “Something called out to me in the Empty. I woke up and the keeper of that realm sent me back here.” He rubbed the back of his neck, probably still waiting for Dean to say something. “It wanted me to go back to sleep. It found me to be very problematic and I admit I wasn’t willing to corporate. I annoyed it until it sent me here.” 

Still staring, Dean managed to take a step forward. He swallowed hard as he stumbled toward the angel. 

Cas opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. 

Dean embraced him with more force than he’d intended. Cas swayed a bit as he returned the hug. Dean was still staring as he held onto his friend. The room blurred and he wasn’t really processing anything other than the fact that Cas was warm and solid and real. 

He blinked. Cas had to be real. Dean pulled back and held Cas in place by his shoulders. He examined his face and familiar disheveled appearance. His clothes were different. They had to be. Dean burned his other suit and coat along with his body. Dean burned him. Fire destroyed everything. 

The thing in front of him couldn’t really be Cas. Either he’d finally cracked or something was impersonating his dead friend. He knew better than to get his hopes up and he knew better than to alert the imposter to his suspicions. 

He shouldn’t have given in so quickly. He shouldn’t have let himself think this could happen. After everything, this was what would break Dean Winchester. He wasn’t hunting much anymore. He wasn’t saving the world. His fractured little family had finally shattered. John was gone. Bobby was gone. Mary was gone. Cas was gone. God wasn’t listening. Sam had moved on.

The only names he knew anymore belonged to the dead. Dean was alone and every monster in existence knew his weaknesses. This was the end and death had come for him with bright blue eyes, a crooked tie and an oversized trenchcoat. There was no point in fighting back. 

The thing in front of him frowned. It could probably sense his suspicion. 

Dean pulled it into another hug. “Welcome home, pal,” he said. He swallowed the desperate feeling clawing at the back of his throat and forced himself to smile. “It’s good to have you back, Cas.” Dean pulled away again and the thing let him go. 

“I’m happy to be back,” it said. “How long was I gone?” 

“Too damn long,” answered Dean. He slid easily back into numbness. He stopped mourning weeks ago. There was no need to relive the feelings. “Four months, give or take a few weeks.”

“Where’s Sam?” 

“I’m honestly not sure,” answered Dean. If the thing wasn’t going to kill him, it was most likely going to use him. 

“What about the child?” it asked. 

Bless its heart. It was doing a great job pretending to be concerned. Maybe it really was.

“No clue,” answered Dean.

The thing frowned again, examining him. “Why aren’t you with Sam?” 

“Just felt like going solo for a while,” answered Dean. “Sam will be glad to know you’re back.” 

The thing touched its fingers to Dean’s forehead. “Something’s wrong.” Its lips parted and it gave a quiet “oh” before taking its hand away. “You don’t believe me.”

The thing could read minds. Instinct kicked in and Dean’s gun was in his hand a split second later. 

The thing moved forward until the gun was poking into its chest. “That will hurt,” it said, “but it won’t kill me. You know that.” 

“Everything has a weakness,” said Dean. “If this doesn’t kill you, I’ll find something else to do the job.” 

“Dean, it’s me,” said the thing, almost pleading. It was being gentle, like it knew exactly how to break his heart. 

Dean clenched his jaw, raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark; a single shot right between the eyebrows. The thing winced and clutched its forehead, but it didn’t die. Dean unloaded the rest of the bullets in its chest. 

It collapsed to the ground, one hand raised. “Stop,” it gasped. 

He tossed the gun on the bed and went to his bag. The thing was struggling to stand. Cas’ angel blade was at the bottom of his duffle bag wrapped in an old shirt. Dean retrieved it and held it tight in his hand. 

The thing was on its knees. “It’s me,” it said again. “Please. I’m sorry I read your mind. I thought something was wrong.” 

He stood over the thing, blade raised. “You fucked up by looking like him,” he said. “We burned Cas’ body. He can’t come back.”

The thing blinked, lips moving as it if was trying to speak. “You didn’t tr—” it began. It blinked again and lowered its head. “I’m sorry,” it said finally. “I’m sorry for everything.”

* * *

Dean didn’t want him to come back. Dean was done with him. The Winchesters were done with him. They didn’t even want to run the risk of Castiel returning to their lives. 

He stared at the thin, worn carpet and waited for the killing blow. This time he’d go to the Empty and stay asleep. Maybe that was why the ruler of that realm agreed to send him back. Maybe it knew this would be the end. 

The gunshot wounds healed quickly, but not as quickly as they used to when he was at his strongest. He didn’t know why Dean was hesitating. It wasn’t like him to overthink a kill. He couldn’t look up. If he looked up, he’d see Dean and his mind would fill with what-ifs. He’d beg and try to prove himself. He’d make it worse. 

Finally, Dean broke the silence. “He was a weak spot,” he said. “Everybody knows that.” 

Castiel nodded. He’d been a weak spot in Heaven, too. 

“I had to burn him. Once word got out that he was—” His voice cracked and he sighed. “Once everyone figured out he was dead, I knew things like you would try to get to us and get to Jack by faking his resurrection. We come back from the dead all the time. Wouldn’t be hard to dress up like Cas and worm your way to the inner circle.” He took a shaky breath. “I had to burn him. I had to make sure that when I saw him again, I wouldn’t get manipulated. I had to be sure I could keep my head on straight so I could do what has to be done.” 

Castiel took a moment to process what the hunter said and, by some miracle, Dean let him process instead of killing him. He raised his head and looked at his friend. “Jack?” he asked quietly. It was a good name, a strong name. 

“Kelly’s kid,” answered Dean, though Castiel already suspected as much. “Why haven’t you run away yet?” asked Dean. 

“I don’t want to,” answered Castiel.

The blade was at Dean’s side, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind. The hunter ran a hand over his eyes.

“When Naomi was training me,” said Castiel, “she made hundreds of you, maybe more. Nearly perfect replicas of you were kept in a warehouse. It was my job to kill them. I needed to practice because, even in my brainwashed state, killing you unthinkable.” 

Dean swallowed and pursed his lips. 

“I lost track of how many times and how many different ways I killed you,” continued Castiel. “It was a very long time before I could face the real you. I always hesitated.” He looked from his blade to Dean’s eyes. “I’m not trying to make you pity me. I just want you to know I understand how difficult this must be for you.” 

Dean seemed frozen where he stood. Castiel decided to take a chance and stand with him. Maybe movement would spur Dean to action. It didn’t. He allowed Castiel to get to his feet. He followed his movements, eyes wide and full of some unfamiliar emotion. Castiel put a hand on his shoulder.

Dean searched him, green eyes scanning his face. “Cas,” he whispered.

The angel nodded, feeling strangely guilty for confirming his identity. It would be so much easier for Dean if he could believe Castiel was an imposter. It would be easier to let Castiel go. It would be safer too. 

Suddenly Dean dropped the blade and crashed into Castiel, pulling him into a crushing embrace. He didn’t say anything else and he didn’t pull away again. When his hold began to relax, Castiel squeezed him a bit tighter. Dean responded immediately by strengthening his own hold again.

There were so many unspoken things between them, so many hopes and assumptions. If Castiel died again he’d go back to the Empty and the next time, the entity would surely take precautions to keep him asleep. 

He turned his face and breathed in the scent of the hunter. How many years had he longed for a quiet, unbroken moment like this? How many years had he spent driving himself mad before he realized his madness was just a symptom? How many more years would pass before he confessed?

Maybe this wasn’t the time or place, but Castiel couldn’t justify waiting any longer. He raised a hand and tangled his fingers in the hunter’s hair. “I love you,” he whispered.

Dean took Castiel’s face in his hand and kissed him. His other arm was still firmly locked around Castiel’s waist, hand clutching the back of his trenchcoat. He walked Castiel backwards until he was trapped between the hunter and the motel wall. Dean’s hand moved along his body, dragging along his side and up his chest until both palms cradled Castiel’s face. “I sorry,” he said, breathing the words against Castiel’s lips. 

He kissed him again, and tilted Castiel’s head back. Dean’s lips moved slowly down from his mouth to his cheek, to his chin, to his neck. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s all right,” breathed Castiel.

“I should have gone after you. I should have looked for you.” He loosened Castiel’s tie and nudged his shirt collar to expose more of his throat. 

“You couldn’t leave Sam and Jack,” said Castiel. “They’re targets. I wouldn’t have left them either.” 

Dean exhaled against him again and began undoing his tie. “I did so many things wrong.” His hands were shaking. He clutched the tie in his fist and his legs seemed to lose their strength. He fell to his knees, hands clutching Castiel’s white button down shirt. Dean rested his forehead just above his pelvis. “I’m so sorry, Cas,” he said again. 

The shock of seeing Dean so defeated quickly wore off and Castiel knelt with him on the floor. He took the hunter in his arms again and hushed him. “It’s all right,” he said gently. 

“I already fucked up with Jack,” said Dean. “I called him a monster. I thought he was. I’m just like Dad; even Sam saw it. If that kid turns out all right it will only be because Sammy didn’t give up on him.” 

“There is always time to make amends,” said Castiel. “It’s not too late. Jack is very strong.” 

“He got you killed,” said Dean. 

“He brought me back,” said Castiel. 

Dean hid his face against Castiel’s neck. “I lost my fucking mind,” he said. “I missed you so damn much.” 

Castiel kissed his cheek and let his fingers trail up and down Dean’s back. “I missed you, too.” 

* * *

Dean melted against Cas. He couldn’t stop himself. He realized too late that he’d forgotten to say something crucial. Or maybe he didn’t forget. Maybe he didn’t want to say it because he didn’t really believe Cas meant it. Maybe he thought Cas would take it back once he realized how screwed up Dean was.

Then again, the angel wasn’t showing any signs of pulling away. 

“I need you.” He mumbled the words against Cas’ skin, too much of a coward to look the angel in the eyes. “I love you.”

Cas must have been holding his breath because he exhaled deeply and clung to Dean with renewed conviction. 

Dean kissed his neck, working his way back up to Cas’ lips. He kissed him deeply, with more force than before. He licked gently into his mouth, savoring the taste. He’d dreamed about moments just like this for years. Reality more than lived up to the fantasy. 

“I should probably tell Sam you’re back,” mumbled Dean. “I know you can fly now but, maybe you’d want to ride back with me?”

Cas nodded quickly. “Yes.”

“And maybe we don’t have to leave right away,” suggested Dean. “Maybe we could spend the night here?” 

Cas nodded again.

“And it’ll take us a few days to get back. We could make it in two days, but four days would give us more time to, um, you know.” 

“Catch up?” The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched.

“Yeah,” answered Dean, heat rising in his cheeks. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” 

Cas hummed in agreement and nuzzled against him. “I’ve wanted to hold you like this for years.”

“Same here,” said Dean. Without letting go, he stood and brought Cas up with him. “At the risk of sounding dumb,” he bit his lip and nodded to the bed, “would you lay down with me for a while?” 

“Of course.” 

Dean tugged him to the bed and helped him shed his coat and suit jacket. They kicked out of their shoes and Dean pulled back the covers. They settled into the mattress. Dean curled up behind Cas, wrapping the angel tightly in his arms and securing him against his chest. 

Cas tangled their fingers together. When Dean nosed against his cheek, he tilted his head to expose his neck. 

Dean laughed quietly. “I’ve had dreams about this,” he said. 

“I know.”

“How?” 

“You are a very enthusiastic dreamer, Dean. And we have a profound bond.” Cas must have felt him get tense. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Nights you dreamed of us were some of the best nights of my existence.” He laughed. “Had I known the real thing was a possibility I would have initiated this long ago.” 

Dean closed his eyes. The moment of Cas’ death still haunted him and he saw it as clearly as it had happened. Without realizing it, he’d pulled Cas back into his chest and buried his face against the angel’s neck. “I missed you so much.” 

Despite Dean’s tight grip, Cas easily rolled over in his arms. He took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.


End file.
